In Mornings Light do We Awake
by Manna
Summary: Mulder is gone and scully reacts. AU


this is a bit sad so do not read this if you are not a person who likes sad storys  
i was told that the start of the story is familer to another, but no person   
can remeber the name of the story. Sorry.  
John  
  
  
  
In Mornings Light do We Awake  
  
  
The skys melancholy gray matched the landscape, and its mood certainly was in  
reflection of the charcoal land. The overwhelming feeling of death was in  
every aspects of the cemetery, from the grass to the trees to the old  
decade flowers.  
And the woman knew the mood of the sky. Her languid promenade down  
the lethargic avenues of  
the cemetery came to an prompt stop, the wind blasting the tails of her  
protracted, black, London Fog  
trench coat against her short, sturdy legs. As she thought of her current  
predicament a sardonic smile  
shone superficially on her lips, not in the eyes as all smiles from the  
underside of the heart do. She  
perceived that this would be an arduous task, to impart on him the  
knowledge that she had kept to solely  
to herself for so long. With a shaking hand she reached up to her petite  
face and quickly brushed a thick,  
curly, chunk of copper colored hair behind her ear and out of her eyes,  
the other was busy holding dozen  
white roses.   
With a renewed sense of resoluteness, she carefully walked the tired  
paths, trying somewhat  
unsuccessfully not to step on any of graves and disrespecting them. After  
a spell her mind began to  
speculate many things at once, and soon it was completely wrapped in a  
domain of its own; away from  
gray of the landscape; away from the trepidation of her heart; away from  
the guilt of her mind.   
  
  
While her mind was not reasoning well, she was  
contemplating, in truth she was doing an  
awful lot of very hard thinking, she was simply not doing it rationally.   
While working a case, many things that are not normally done are by  
necessity made habitual.  
While working a case, it was not unheard of for agents to leave in the  
middle of the day, either to checkup  
on a lead or to catch a bite or for any number of thousands of viable  
reasons. While working a case, it was  
not unheard to work with other agents who shared your expertise. While  
working a case, it was not  
unheard of for partners to work whole cases with out seeing each other,  
especially when the one was a  
pathologist, and the other was a behavioral profiler, as was the fact of the  
matter with the woman and her  
partner. It was however, unheard of to not show up for a meeting with  
the director of the FBI. It was,  
however, unheard of to not answer your cell or your home phone many  
hours. It was, however, unheard of  
to leave your door unlocked. It was, however, unheard of to leave  
without telling anyone of your  
whereabouts.  
So absorbed in her thoughts was this woman with the flowers, that when  
she stopped once again,  
in front of a rather large gray stone she was shocked at the name in the marble: Fox  
Mulder. He partner. In her reverie  
she had not thought of where she was going,. She looked at her old  
black leather banded watch to find   
it was almost two hours after she had made her destination to go and  
explain the events to Mulder, her  
partner, even in death. The bureau mandated shrink thought that it would  
be a wonderful chance for  
closure, and the flowered lady didn't argue. The week that had  
completed in the wake of his death had  
made her realize that she never conquered, rarely came, and in some  
futile attempt in the act of closure  
the shrink thought that she could make up for years of failure and  
unfulfilled potential in one single sided  
conversation with the inanimate representative of a corpse.  
Closure, she thought angrily, her furry directed towards the name on the  
stone.   
"I know the only way to get closure would be if I found out where you  
had been. Why you left, who killed  
you." she said out loud, the flood gates open to let out thoughts that she  
had kept to her self. She found  
that once she started it was quite impossible to stop.   
  
  
  
"Oh, yes, the coroners office said that it was an homicide, and one  
would think that the murder  
of a federal agent would get solved in a record amount of time, but like  
all you did in life your death is  
also all mysterious and weird. Its almost as if you did not want to be  
found, Mulder. I hope that this was  
not the case, that you did not leave willingly  
with those you had sworn to bring to justice, the ballistics matched the  
guns of those you fought against  
for so many years. I still do not know were you were for that whole  
month. Thirty-one days, Mulder, you  
were gone, thirty one days I wondered where you were. I did not sleep,  
did not eat, only worried about  
you. It was three thirty in the morning when I got the phone call I had  
been dreading. It was the AD with  
news that you had been shot, and your body was found fifty six miles  
away in an alley. You were dead.  
Gun shot wound to the back of the head, point blank. Coroners report  
says death was instantaneous. You  
left me! You ba..." The woman with the flowers stopped to try to get  
control her anger. She failed at this,  
as she did every thing else, and threw the flowers at the tombstone.  
" You never realized, because I never told you, that I loved you. I never  
thought we'd die  
alone, I always assumed we'd be together, in a raid or a car accident or  
whatever. I believe that you thought that I was your saving grace. I wish  
I was, if only to save you. However I am no conduit to divine  
salvation, Mulder. If anything I am a poor fallen angel, not able to get  
back to that happy heaven  
home again. I could not be your mediator, I could not help you escape  
from fate, I could not help  
keep the demons away. I failed you as I have failed so many before, and  
this time I will pay for  
my mistakes. I could not tell you in life that I loved you, so I will tell you  
in death. I love you  
damn it!" She once again broke down into sobs. With the sudden clarity  
of the gods she was  
her destiny. Sniffing and drying her eyes on her coat   
With this the woman who used to have flowers calmly moved her hand to  
her waist where her  
government issued Colt .32 was holstered. With a steady hand she turned  
the safety off, moved the gun to  
her head and pulled the trigger. Her lifeless body fell to the ground, her  
blood staining the roses red. Yes,  
the sky knew the mood of the cemetery that day, and matched it  
perfectly as a light rain began to fall, mourning the souls departed.   
*************************  
The End.  
I know, I know.....  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
